Poppies
by SavageGardener
Summary: During a break from the monotony of travel, Gojyo muses on flowers and on his best friend. GojyoXHakkai


Hallo duckies!

Sorry to take so long, but I've been trying to go slowly about my business. I've got two other completed fanfics, but I don't want to throw them out there in bulk. It would just feel so… I dunno. Wrong. Plus, everyone would see how painfully similar they all are, and the jig would be up.

This is my first Saiyuki fanfic, as I've only recently discovered the joy and majesty that is Saiyuki. So many years wasted! But no longer! I have you now!

SAIYUKI! MY BELOVED!

It can't be helped, my obsession, so I only feed its darkness in hopes that it might release me. Anime is SO expensive. Well, it wouldn't be too expensive if it weren't for the sheer volume of it! Twelve DVDs (for the first… I dunno what you'd call it… season… but that's not right…), then I've got to go to e-bay to get Reload and Reload GUNLOCK! And then there's a movie and wall scrolls and manga and art books and posters and busts and figurines and T-shirts and key rings and pins and pens and plates and clocks and…

Arg. And that's not counting all of the doujinshi, even if I only want all of the Gojyo/Hakkai stuff. Delicious. I feel like I'm in a Pokemon episode. Gotta catch 'em all!

Well, here we go. A bit of a long Author's Note, but feh.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Saiyuki and have no rights to the obscene amount of aforementioned paraphernalia.

WARNINGS: Slight slash, but nothing happens. ::sigh:: I just can't get very physical!

SPOILERS: None. Sorry.

All right… the flower thing. I don't know if there are poppies or dandelions in China. For all I know, there might not even be any clouds in China. Who's to say that China even exists? Well, we'll trust that it does; where else would Hakkai and Gojyo live? Japan? That's such a crazy leap I don't even… well, maybe.

Sorry about the long Author's Note. I know how much you all are just dying to read these things.

-SNORKY

Resting is nice. Very, very nice.

I lean back into the grass and the wildflowers, oblivious to the sounds of yelling in the distance (trust Goku to ruin a perfectly good afternoon), and smile.

I must look pretty stupid, picking at grass with such a goofy smile on my face. What do thy call this sort of dazed look? I can't recall, but they always seem to assign it to some love-struck teenage youth.

Love-struck…?

Whatever. I don't know anymore, which is a very, very nice thing.

Like resting. Like getting out of that jeep. Like watching Hakkai… what the hell is he doing? He's holding some grass in his hands and some flowers, too, and seems to be weaving them together. I wonder what he's making?

I venture to ask him, but I pause to enjoy the day. It isn't that often that we get to relax, you know. I'm sure all of this demon slaying looks like a nice, big, frosted piece of cake, but believe you me, it can get to ya.

Like yesterday, we had to kill about twenty of them.

Twenty demons isn't very much, but sometimes I start thinking about how those twenty demons used to be good, respectable people. That's twenty people, and that's a much bigger number than twenty demons. I don't know why, but it is. Then I think about the families they must have had, the children, the wives, and the husbands. That's an even bigger number. Then I start with the extended family: parents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins… which is a relatively small number next to the friends, the neighbors, the coworkers, the people they must have passed on their way to the market every morning.

So I think, I've killed twenty demons, but I've really hurt thousands of people. Maybe it is the loss of a loved one, or maybe it is the knowledge that you'll never see someone at the store again. Maybe you've never even met, but you were going to, and now you'll never know; now you'll never meet that person I've killed.

That's when I stop thinking.

That's when I look at the hair that's in my eyes and say, I've paid enough. Just give me some time.

I hate that damned hair. It's always everywhere, no matter how I put it up or brush it back. It gets in my eyes, the red of it, and on my clothing. You'll never know how shocking it is to see a thread of hair on your clothing that looks like a rivulet of blood. It happens to me all the time.

Once, I saw a piece on Hakkai's shoulder as he slept, and I almost shook him awake to see if he had died during the night and had blood trickling down all over him. Didn't wake him up, though, 'cause he barely sleeps at all anyway. I just leaned over, plucked the thing off of him, and blew it off into the night.

That's better.

Hakkai, what are you doing?

Hm? Oh, I'm weaving a crown. I used to do it all the time with my students.

Oh, really? That's pretty girly Hakkai.

He laughs. Yes, I suppose it is.

I pluck a flower near me, and offer it to him. It's red, but I don't know flowers, so I have no idea what it really is. Is it enough for a simple man to say that it is a pretty, red flower?

Oh, a poppy. How lovely, Gojyo.

A poppy?

Yes.

When did you learn so much about flowers?

He laughs and says, I was a teacher, you know.

Oh yeah. When you get up there and start kicking ass, I forget.

Would you like to know some neat things about the poppy?

A little flower lesson from sensei Hakkai? I think I'll pass.

He laughs again. Always laughing. He is so pretty when he laughs, though, so I don't mind the monotony of it.

I can't help but feel a twinge of pride when he weaves the poppy in with the other flowers on that crown of his. Contented, I nestle back into the flowers and the grass and the weeds and stare up at a very, very pretty sky.

I need to ask Hakkai for some other words for pretty, because I'm soundin' like a broken record.

He looks so peaceful there, with those flowers and the wind blowing just enough to be refreshing without bothersome. Not so windy that it gets my hair in my eyes too badly.

When I was little, I used to make pictures out of the clouds in the sky. There's a rabbit, there's a tree, there's an alligator…

For some reason, when I do it now, it's different.

There's a bottle, there's a cigarette, there's a gun, there's a tart, there's a dragon, there's a monocle, there's a smile, there's another smile, and another, and another. A never ending well of smiles and of laugher.

Why can't I just keep looking at the sky?

Hey Hakkai.

Yes?

Who's the crown for?

Oh, I don't know. I was really just going to throw it out… it was only for nostalgia, really. Just nice to know I can remember how to do this…

Oh.

He chuckles a little under his breath, and then sighs. He always sighs when he's thinking of her, of that Kannan that I never knew.

I can imagine them sitting in a field like this one, weaving crowns and necklaces and bracelets, and adorning themselves in nature's finery like two kids breaking into their mother's jewelry box. It would be a pretty cute picture, if it weren't stained with blood.

Never mind; the wind's picked up and the hair's in my eyes.

I look to Hakkai and to his humble craftsmanship, and it is red, all of the flowers, his smile, his hands, his smile, his eyes, his clothes, his smile. Why do I suddenly feel so responsible for this?

Damned if I know anything anymore.

He moves a little, and sort of turns away from me. Fine. To hell with you, Hakkai. I don't need to be watching you anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a white puff waving in the wind, and I realize that it's a dandelion. Boy, I haven't seen one of those in years and years.

All right, Hakkai, you keep your crown and your memories and your nostalgia; I'll just keep my dandelion and we'll call it even, okay?

Someone once told me that if I made a wish, it would come true if I was able to blow all of the seeds off of a dandelion. So, I tried. I was a little kid then, though, and I was pretty skinny, too, so whoever told me that must have known that I could never blow all of those damned, stubborn seeds. I can imagine some shadowy figure watching me from behind a window, pressing the shades out of place so that they could laugh at a little skinny red head plucking dandelions and blowing until my face was blue.

I twirled the dandelion in my hand and admired the snowy white color and the way the tiny fibers at the end of each seed tickled my nose. How lovely, these little things. Funny to think about how much I had cried over those, over my inability to blow them all off. How I had torn up whole handfuls of them and screamed into them, trying so hard to get them to go away.

Just go away.

Tears dropping down into the downy whiteness, scrubbing furiously at my nose because I hated to cry, especially over flowers.

Gojyo?

Yeah?

What's wrong?

Huh?

You look like… well, like you were crying.

Ah shit. I'm sure my nose is as red as my hair, as my eyes.

Oh, well, I'm just kind of allergic, I guess.

Gojyo…

How about that flower lesson, sensei?

This time his laugher is fake, really, really fake. That's nice, though, because it feels like shelter now. I usually hate it when he does this to himself, to me, but now I kind of understand. I'm glad he's fake laughing, even if his eyes say that he's still thinking of that woman who was like a little girl.

Well, the poppy is supposed to be a very hardy flower, you know. In fact, it is always one of the very first plants to grow back after battles or disasters. Once, I believe that this area was a war zone, and the entire place was utterly destroyed. But, wouldn't you know it, all of the plants grew back with the poppies leading the charge.

Wow.

Yes. Interesting, isn't it?

To an ex-teacher, I suppose it is.

Just not as great as skirts, ne?

You could say that.

He laughs again, really, really laughs, and that's nice. Nice like laying in the grass and staring at the sky, nice like being with Hakkai in the quiet, nice like making him forget about Kannan.

His hands are pale, fingers long, too. I never realized how frail he looked until I saw him, pulling flowers out of the ground, breaking grass, pressing them together.

He moves again, Hakkai does, but this time it is closer to me. I immediately feel myself become rigid, but I don't really know why.

He creeps closer, holding a now complete crown in his hands, and finally stops next to my head and sits on his knees like a visitor to an old fashioned home. Looking down at me, I can better see the green of his eyes, how the right eye doesn't see anything, how the left is brilliant, how the monocle is the only thing that hides that glazed, pale forest. He hates that eye, so I never get to see him without that glass on.

I feel his hands on my hair, brushing it back behind my ears. That feels so nice.

Then he is pulling my head into his lap, very gently, and settling it so that it isn't straining my neck. Even better. Then, and only then, does he take that crown of his and place it on. The flower petals obscure my vision as he adjusts, perfects, pulls my hair back a second time, and finally stares down at me, the position making it seem his face is upside-down. That's okay, though, because he looks all right anyway.

It's kind of cute the way the crown is lopsided, the way all of the flowers aren't perfectly straight. I bet we'd look pretty good together, Hakkai kneeling with is hands pulling petals from my hair, spilling crimson all over his lap. My legs stretch out further to get comfortable. I hope we can stay like this forever, the two of us.

How is this?

Very nice. Thanks.

You're very welcome.

For some reason, he's moving to leave. So soon? Spell broken… not if I can help it. I think he said something about checking on Sanzo and Goku, but I catch his wrist and keep him underneath my head.

Smiling.

Yes, Gojyo?

Wait…

Why?

I… I just… don't know…

His eyes seem desperate, like he is an animal caught in a trap. My grip on his wrist does not lessen, but he does not struggle too terribly hard. I bet he's wishing he had never decided to give me that stupid crown, wishing he had not made himself so vulnerable. Funny how he could have such power over me, but doesn't.

I don't want to ruin everything, but an opportunity like this does not come every day, so I pick up my hand, and move it up to his face. He seems startled by my movement, but does not stir, eyes transfixed on mine as my fingers grasp his monocle and tug it from its place over his right eye.

He gasps, and tries to pull back again, but I shush him and clutch the eyeglass in my hand.

Hakkai, please… just stay for a while.

Nodding yes, asking why I did it, telling me to give it back to him. I don't really hear him, I'm too busy staring up at that eye.

I see myself, my reflection, in it, and I sigh. That's such a comfort, knowing that I can be seen in him. Kinda poetic, if you're a simpleton like me. Well, at least if you're a simpleton compared to sensei Hakkai.

He is so beautiful. The curve of his cheek, the pale color of his skin, the way his hair never gets out of his eyes. Everything about him is pretty.

I can't see your face anymore, though.

I can see yours.

But, your face is distorted… frightening… please, give it back to me…

The wind picks up again, and my hair is in my eyes. He's covered in blood again. I guess that makes two distorted faces. Flower petals soar up into the air, and they remind me of snow and of the puffy little seeds I could never blow away.

Hakkai, can you blow all of the seeds off of this dandelion?

What?

Just try, okay?

I hand him the dandelion I was holding, and watch with interest as he sizes it up and makes a bit of a show by licking his finger and testing the direction of the wind. I laugh a little, and this seems to please him. I guess that's why he laughs all of the time, too, because he thinks it will make everyone happier. It won't, really, but if he can take comfort in that, then he should continue to.

He prepares himself, taking in a deep breath-

Wait!

What?

Have you made a wish?

Huh?

Just make a wish, in case you can blow them all away.

He seems confused, but closes his eyes very tightly, as if this will somehow mystify his decision. I can understand why he would make such a great teacher. Laying here with my head in his lap, staring up into the shapes in the sky and those pretty red poppy petals, his little actions only make the world a more beautiful place. I don't think I would have seen any of this if he hadn't been here.

When he opens them, his eye is still dull. I guess I was just expecting it to flare to life, impassioned by a wish that probably won't come true. He doesn't look like he has too much lungpower.

Taking a deep breath, be blows, but he does it differently than how I had. Instead of creating one big gust, he concentrates his breath into a tiny stream of air and systematically begins to twirl the stalk as, one by one, the little seeds are pushed into oblivion.

Leave it to Hakkai to overanalyze a children's game.

He doesn't push himself like I used to, until my eyes were clouded by tears and my face was blue, so he stopped whenever he ran out of breath. Gazing down at the stalk, he mental tallied the remaining seeds.

Oh, so close Gojyo. Only… only twenty left.

Twenty was such a small number when you're counting seeds on a stalk.

Well, you tried. What'd you wish for?

I can't say, or else it won't come true.

You didn't get rid of the seeds, so it won't come true anyway. Just 'fess up, already.

Oh dear, but I think it will come true someday, so best not to give it way, ne?

Hakkai, you're such a girl.

Laughing again.

Gojyo, you're such a beast.

So the ladies have been tellin' me.

Is that why you have your head in my lap?

His hands pressed firmly against the sides of my head feel so nice… spell broken for real this time…

Bastard.

I get up so fast that I almost knock my head into his nose, which would have spoiled the entire day. He leans back on his heels, and then stands, brushing the little puffs off of his clothing. His hand was outstretched before him.

Now, give it back.

Tell me what you wished for.

Nothing.

What?

I wished for nothing.

You're a liar.

Set your standards low, and you'll never be disappointed.

I handthe monocleback to him, and he rubs it somberly on his shirt. I guess I smeared my fingers on it. What does it matter? He can't see anyway.

For love.

What?

I wished for love.

Yeah, you really are girly, 'Kai.

I'm not the one with flowers on my head.

The hell…?

Oh yeah. I gingerly remove the thing, and set it on the ground. It looks like a wreath, I realize, like I had seen people weaving and placing on the graves of their loved ones. The flowers on the ground had been sort of crushed by my weight, and the imprint of a man lay in the flowers with a wreath placed gently on top. It was like I was standing over my own deathbed, attending my own funeral.

Flower petals were in the air all around us, falling like snow. Like snow…

I look up at him, and he is smiling like he always is. The monocle's back in place, and I can only see one of his eyes again, the one that's alive. It's sparkling, but I can't see myself in it. Huh, that's weird.

Kicking the dirt, I look back at my grave, but it doesn't really look like my grave any more. Guess it was just one of those in the heat of the moment things. I take a moment, though, to imagine another impression in the flowers next to my own. This one would be smaller, for the creator is prone to curling up onto one side when he is lying down. I can see this impression, and, beneath the crushed flowers, I can see a glint of glass staring up at me.

Then I am looking at Hakkai, and the spot next to my own is gone. Now, it looks like a grave. Oh well. It's not a bad lookin' grave.

He's looking for love, eh? That's kind of cool, because I am too.

Leaving is a bitch, though, so you can understand my elation when, as I turned to go, I felt his hand on my shoulder. I looked at his hand, and I realized he was holding a poppy.

Wait.

Yeah?

Here, take this. I think it really looks lovely on you. They kind of remind me of you…

Then maybe you should wear one.

No, it doesn't seem right. Here.

The flower is in my hand, and he is smiling. Yeah, it is a pretty flower.

Grinning, I pluck a dandelion from the ground, and hand it to him

Well, then here. We'll make this an even exchange.

A dandelion?

You know, Hakkai, so your wish will come true. They kinda remind me of you.

Thank you, Gojyo. It's… lovely.

Just like that, he's gone. I love to watch him walk, picking his way among the flowers so he doesn't crush any. Yeah, he is such a woman. Oh well. I guess that's for the best.

I am alone, holding a flower he gave me in my hand. Smells pretty nice, too.

I lean down and scoop up a few dandelions.

Walking away from a grave that is not a grave, I begin to blow on them, as hard as I could, then softly, then hard again. I try Hakkai's method, and it doesn't work. So stubborn, these flowers. They might be weeds to some people, but I can see past that. I hope Hakkai can, too, or he'll throw mine out as soon as we get driving again.

Such a great little flower, Hakkai.

One by one, I throw them over my shoulder to a flower littered ground. I'll never see them again, and this is a very, very good thing. Failures, really, but I don't mind. I can see myself leading a life of dandelions with a trail of empty stalks behind me. I can't ever blow these damned things off.

I guess my wish will never come true.

For love. For love. For love. For…

Love.

I smell the poppy in my hand. Love-struck, huh? Sure.

For love.

Damned dandelions… guess I'll never get my wish. No, wait…

For love.

Maybe. Maybe.

OWARI


End file.
